Reminders
by Vintage Tea Party
Summary: On the night Jo watches Henry die for the first time, they both need reassuring that he is alive and always will be. Fortunately, they both are both fond of the reminding. Established Mortinez
Henry had known this day would come. It had just taken a long time in arriving.

Tonight, Jo had witnessed his death for the first time. Though he had already explained his secret to her a few years ago, this was the first time she had seen the truth for herself.

He'd told her the truth that day she'd arrived at his home with his old photograph in her hand and asked him to explain it to her. He'd told her everything, of his dying and coming back to life. And then...he didn't. For the next couple of years, he suffered no fatal occurrences. There wasn't a single one while he and Jo were courting. There was none during their engagement. Not once did he die in their first couple of years of marriage. There hadn't even been another before they had lost Abe.

Jo liked to tease him and say that he was just making the whole immortality thing up. He dreaded the day when she could no longer make that joke. He didn't want her to have eyewitness proof that his claim was true. Even though he knew she really did believe what he said he had enjoyed these blissful few years where his secret had still been, at least in part, a myth to her. But that respite was over now.

He'd prepared himself for this long ago but it had taken so long that now he found himself feeling unprepared for this. He'd almost forgotten how terrible dying was. And he'd almost forgotten those fears he'd once had of her witnessing his death.

But as he broke the surface of the water his thoughts were only of her. How would she react? How was she feeling? What was she thinking? He never knew quite what to expect.

They had been close by when it had happened so she was already waiting for him on the bank. As he swam closer he could see her standing awkwardly like she was unsure of herself and she held a blanket in front of her, gripped tightly in both of her hands, her knuckles white.

She was silent as he got out of the water and walked over to her. She stood frozen looking like she was in shock. Hoping to relieve the situation and having never been fond of silence in times like these he spoke first.

"I'm glad this isn't the first time you've seen me naked; that could have been embarrassing," he joked.

But Jo wasn't laughing. Her face was stern as she held the blanket out to him almost like she was mad at him. It wouldn't be the first time that was someone's initial feelings after watching him die and reappear again. He took the blanket and wrapped up in it. "Sorry," he said sheepishly when he could see she wasn't going to go for the joke.

"Is this funny to you?" she asked seriously, her voice tight with anger.

He sighed, his shoulders falling slightly, and his body suddenly feeling very heavy "No, it's not," he admitted.

"Then why are you joking about it?"

He knew her so well that he could tell that she wasn't really angry right now even though her voice sounded harsh. He could tell she was really hurting underneath. He had wanted to make this as easy as he could for her but he couldn't help feeling he'd already made it worse.

"I was just trying to lighten the mood," he explained, his voice quiet.

"Well don't," she bit back.

He was trying to keep the flood inside of him at bay but if he didn't joke he wasn't sure he could succeed. "It's what I did with Abe. It made it easier for him," he said his voice cracking with tears and a lump in his throat threatening to strangle him.

It suddenly hit him with a sickening force that Abe wasn't there. That he never would be there again. Henry was already having a hard time dealing with this death because it had been so long since he'd had one that he was out of practice. But knowing it was the first of his that his son isn't there for made it so much worse, way worse than he ever imagined it could be.

Hearing the tremble in Henry's voice and knowing exactly why it was there Jo stepped closer and put her hands on his shoulders. She knew what he was feeling; she knew the things he was thinking. She'd been there through it all and she was there on the days it still hit him hard.

"You don't have to do that for me," she whispered.

"I don't know what else to do," he admitted.

Her voice was much changed and so calm when she spoke. "Maybe there's a different way," she suggested.

Henry didn't have Abe but for the first time he had her. The tears that flooded his eyes and threatened to run over seemed to ebb back a little at the thought. He considered many times what her first death would be like for her but he hadn't really considered what it would be like for him. He'd been so focused on being there for her that he hadn't thought about her being there for him. He knew that was what she was offering him right now.

He knew there was a different way. He hadn't always covered up his own pain in humor and bore it all himself in order to make the burden on his son as light as possible. If he thought back, decades into his past, he could remember a remedy for the pain and not just a cover up over it.

He remembered soft feminine arms holding him in the aftermath. He remembered hands helping him in the shower, assisting him as he cleaned the river off of him. He remembered a warm body in bed next to him, reminding him what it was to be alive when death lingered and wanted nothing more than to dig its claws into him.

It had been so long since he'd had that. He had spent so many years telling himself he didn't need that that it felt wrong to want it. But he did want that, wanted that with Jo very much. Now that she was asking he ached with how much he wanted to be comforted. He had missed being able to truly feel and express himself following death whether it was in tears from sadness of dying or exuberance from the joy of living or sometimes both of them at once.

But Jo had never seen him like that and part of him worried. Once he gave himself over to that, he knew he could lose himself completely and he wasn't sure what would come out. Not many people could handle a person of such intensity like him. She'd been through so much with him he was sure he could trust her but old worries die hard. Rejection during such a vulnerable time as this would be the worst kind.

"Jo...I," he faltered, not knowing quite how to start. "I am an emotional man."

There was a hint of a smile on her lips though he could see she was trying hard to repress it and remain serious. "I know that, Henry. I am married to you."

"I don't want to scare you with what I'm feeling," he said his voice thick with emotion.

"You haven't yet. Do you really think you could?" she asked, her voice full of the acceptance he'd always found there.

Henry got frustrated with himself for explaining himself so poorly. "What I mean is… I have been told in the past by others that I'm too emotional. And that's on a good day. Following a death...I _feel_ even more. It can be overwhelming."

She was quiet for a moment, thinking about what he said. Then she moved her hands from his shoulders and snaked her arms under the blanket and around his waist. He wished he could say that he had kept a tremble from running through his body at the touch but he could not. And it did not stop when he saw the way her deep brown eyes looked up at him in desire. "Then overwhelm me," she said her own voice heavy with emotion.

He meant to have something better to say then a strangled "What?" but he was just too surprised for anything else.

"If you're overwhelmed," she said clearly and with intention, "then take me with you. Whatever you need...we're getting through this together."

He didn't know what to say and she, knowing he often needed her help to get him moving, leaned up and kissed him.

It burned with passion and want but it was also so full of loyalty and unrelenting love it made him ache. She wanted all of him; all of his heart even. The two together in her touch unraveled everything inside of him and brought him back to life.

* * *

In the morning Henry had a lot more to remember about the night before than just his death. In fact, it was almost hard to remember the pain of his death for all the pleasure that had followed it. He had forgotten it could be that way. Maybe, he'd had to forget; it was something he'd not been able to have for a long time. But he was now glad to be reminded of it. He couldn't say that the aftercare was worth going through death exactly but he could say he was very grateful that something so good could come out of one.

It had been so long since he'd died he'd almost forgotten how painful it all was. He was so glad that she had been there to ease him through it. He'd felt so lost but she had helped him find his way.

This one had been a significant one. He'd spent a lot of time thinking and honestly worrying how Jo would handle her first. He had explained it all to her years ago but talking about it and living it were two very different things. As so many things in life were you couldn't know how you would react to something until you'd actually gone through it. He'd seen good and he'd seen bad and he didn't know how she would take it.

His mind was still lingering on fond remembrances of the previous night as he opened his eyes. Soft early morning sunlight was glowing through the drapes on the window and he was surprised to find Jo already awake, her eyes on him. She was not an early riser and he smiled, glad for her company first thing in the morning.

"Good morning," he whispered.

She smiled back at him. "Good morning. How did you feel?"

"Good," he answered honestly. "I never would have survived this one without you."

She could say that of course he would have survived; he would survive anything. But she knew the difference. She gave him a gentle smile and her eyes softened, full of understanding. She said so much with just one look; she didn't even need words.

He paused and studied her a little more closely looking beyond the surface. She looked exhausted. Even though it was early he felt like this fatigue was different than the normal sleepiness that lingered soon upon waking.

"Did you sleep?" he asked.

She paused a moment before answering. "No, not really."

"Why not?" he asked concerned. He had thought she had handled his death well. She'd done so marvelously last night that he hadn't thought anything was wrong. But now he could see that there was something troubling her.

She hesitated to answer and looked down, though it wasn't before he saw the slight pink blush on her cheeks and he realized she was embarrassed. He still couldn't believe he got to see her this way, vulnerable. He knew he was only one he got to see this softer, breakable part of her. Even a few years into marriage he marveled that he was the sole person who was privileged to bear that responsibility.

To put her at ease he smiled and asked, "Was it too much?" his voice teasing and full of implication. He was playing with her but also he honestly wanted to know what was bothering her.

She glanced away as she blushed in earnest now. He was surprised he could still have such an obvious effect on her and he hoped it was something that would never fade. She understood full well what he meant and she smiled at him as her eyes met his again. "No. It was wonderful. That is one area where I am grateful for your... _intensity_."

They smiled at each other flirtatiously but she still hadn't answered his real question. "Then what is it?" he asked gently, reaching out a hand to brush the hair back around her ear.

She softened at the tender gesture and her voice was vulnerable when she spoke again.

"It's silly," she said.

"You have not said one silly thing the entire time I've known you," he said honestly.

She smiled; he was so good at flattery and genuine at that. "I...I was watching you sleep," she admitted.

"Well, look who's being the romantic one now," he teased reaching out and taking her hand. Usually, he was the one known for such overly affectionate actions. It genuinely pleased him to be on the receiving end this time. Though, he suspected, despite her claim that it was trivial, it went deeper than that.

She averted her eyes again, looking down at their joined hands. "I was...I mean...I kept feeling like I was afraid you were going to disappear again," she said with difficultly, before she bit her lip nervously.

Henry was known to wear his heart blatantly on his sleeve but Jo struggled a little more with expressing herself. Even now, after all this time, being honest about how she felt was still difficult for her to do. That was especially true the harder the feelings were that she was having.

Sometimes, she was too good at hiding. Henry hadn't really seen it until now. She looked up at him to gage his reaction but before he could say anything she spoke again, "I know, it's silly," she said shaking her head and trying to shake her words away too.

"It is not," he said earnestly. "It really bothered you didn't it?" he asked.

She hurried to explain herself as if she thought he took that to mean she couldn't handle what he'd went through. "It's not like I didn't know what was going to happen; you explained it all clearly enough. I just didn't expect it to be so hard watching you disappear. For a moment, it was like you were really gone."

His heart clenched for her. She was always so strong but he knew she was holding hurt inside. It was hurt he wished he could take away for her.

"It brought up a lot of old feelings, didn't it?" he asked gently. "That's alright: I understand."

He was immortal; he would never die. Because of this he would never leave her. But she still worried. She knew the truth in her mind but the heart was a stubborn thing and it wasn't always so easy to redirect when it was determined to feel a certain way. She'd lost a husband once and watching Henry disappear, if only temporarily, surely brought back those old fears and pains.

He regretted that his condition would cause her to have to feel that probably numerous times over the rest of her life. But just as his deaths were, these feelings need only be fleeting.

"It's alright to feel that way. But I need you to understand one thing. I am _never_ going to leave you," he promised with all the feeling he could manage.

She sighed and smiled. "I may need reminding from time to time," she admitted nervously.

Just as she reminded him of life and living and helped to remove the pain of death so he would always endeavor to do the same for her.

He wrapped his arms around her under the blankets. He smiled, feeling her bare skin instantly cover in goose bumps. "Do you need reminding right now?"

She smiled and he could feel her heart already beating fast, knowing what he meant. He felt her arms move around him as she said "As a matter of fact, I think I do."

Some things were worth remembering often.


End file.
